


Freak of Nature

by Mangacat



Series: Freak Accidents [1]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-18
Updated: 2009-05-18
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2175237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangacat/pseuds/Mangacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The umbrella, sometimes (well, yeah most of the times) it's just protection against shitty weather. It's the ones that can be called incidents, that make the thing really funny. Jared is about to find out just how screwed up life can get on one of those special occasions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freak of Nature

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** If someone could own them, I think there would be Third World War breaking out soon enough, so we’re all glad they only belong to themselves and hopefully don’t do these things… and if you do, don’t tell us about it, yeah? YEAH? No harm, no foul, no money, all fiction. (Plus, Dean belongs to Kripke, but you'd better not tell him that...)  
>   
>  **A/N:**  
>  This is my contribution to the   
>  
> 
> [May](http://pics.livejournal.com/insane_songbird/pic/0004exes/) prompt of the [spn_pic_for_fic](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_pic_for_fic/) which took place in 2009!!

 

~*~

 

The trailer door opened and a young man man stepped out onto the ledge and squinted up at the cloudy sky - incessant rumbling sounded from not too far. Then he flinched as a big rain drop hit him square on the cheek. He turned and fetched an umbrella that was propped up beside the door and opened it up to shield himself from the water pouring down. He stepped down and closed the door behind him, his gaze catching on the little handwritten sign that had appeared saying 'Dean'. He shook his head, mumbling to himself and turned around sharply at the sound of good-natured laughter. 

“They really like to encourage character bleed, don't they? But there's no way I'm taking this kind of baggage all the way home with me.” 

The answer was thrown back instantly.

“I'm sure you'll cope, you are just awesome that way!”

He swept his arms out to prepare a little bow, but before he actually got there, he had about half a second to feel a strange tension build up around him, and then everything went white hot and black instantly.

 

When he came to, it was to a familiar ache in all his limbs and a quite acute pain in his right hand. A more thorough inventory showed him lying flat on his back and he felt a big pair of hands flutter around, patting his shoulders and his neck. A well-known voice filtered through his muddled brain that felt like going five rounds with a werewolf and he hoped that wasn't the case literally. 

“Oh my god, are you alright? Is there, I... help's coming soon, yeah, hang on?”

He groaned and aborted any attempt to move his head in favour of grabbing at the arms that were blurring all over him to stop the movement and garner attention.

“Wha' happn'd?”

“I... you got.. struck by lightning, I guess. I'm not really...”

He cracked an eye open to squint at the familiar face hovering over him.

“Lightning, eh? Yeah right, Sammy, that's a good one.”

A frown passed over the concerned features of his little brother, but before any more words could be spoken, a young woman hurried over, a sturdy middle-aged man in tow.

“I fetched Phil fast as I could, is he...?”

“I'm right here, made of awesome, sugar. Just wait a moment until the world stops spinning and I'll get back at you.”

“Well, his sharp tongue seems to be up to par after all, let's look at you for a moment anyway, yeah?”

Dean tried to swat away the man he had made out to be a doctor and went to sit up, but a strong hand kept him lying down and he wanted to hiss at Sam for making him take the doctors prodding and questions. However, it turned out that trying to get up wasn't as easy as he would've thought after the doctor had given him permission. He had pronounced him quite alright save for a nasty burn in his hand that had to be bandaged and a mild shock, incredulous expression firmly in place. 

“I can't say how glad but surprised I am that you aren't fried within an inch of your life, but I figure, the umbrella might have had something to do with it. Either way you shouldn't be alone for at least 48 hours to be sure there will not be any further reactions.”

Meanwhile a bigger crowd had formed around them, people chattering away like mad, making his head ache even fiercer after he was finally on his own feet, leaning on his lanky brother with careful evasion. He was reluctant to contemplate how they had ended up where they were in the situation they found themselves in, but if he was really struck by lightning (and the charred remains of an umbrella made a pretty damn good set of evidence) there must have been some serious shit going down beforehand. And it was always good to hit the road before people started figuring out that they were either not supposed to be on the premisses or things just didn't happen that way. So he complained loudly about the terrible headache raging in his skull and let Sam take him away to the car, where he drifted off to a soothing rumble. 

Only when he found himself wedged in the back seat of a full off road SUV with Sam beside him and a _driver_ (that looked strangely familiar somehow) behind the wheel, did some cogs in his head turn the right way. They pointed out that something was decidedly wrong with this picture, and he desperately tried to put together what it was, but his brain was still a bit muddled and slow and lost the thread of thought again after a few seconds. So, when they stopped shortly after, he let Sam, who'd been watching him with the puppy frown of doom then entire time, drag him out of the car without protest. They walked over a well manicured lawn and up to a cosy little town house. Sam fumbled the keys from his pocket and juggled them a bit in the lock, until the door opened and revealed a fully furnished modern interior. 

“Wow, Sammy, must have been one hell of a tip we got to be squatting in a place like this. Are you sure that the owners won't be back until we finished up with this job?”

“Dude, I know you had a serious accident, but you can drop the act around here, OK? Let's just get you ready for a shower and some quality nap time. The doc said you shouldn't move around too much and lie down for a bit if possible, so we're going to do what Phil says, OK? No games and pranks about this one, man.”

He blinked a bit owlishly, but followed Sam into the back of the house, man, this lightning struck like a serious bitch.

 

His brother managed to bundle him into the bathroom with the order to take a shower, but thankfully left him alone to do the deed. He got in under the hot spray and marvelled at the brilliance of well-tempered water pressure. This place was a fricking gold mine, he'd be even tempted to stay a bit longer than strictly necessary in here – just to enjoy the creature comforts or course. When stepped out of the shower, he found his clothes had been replaced by a ratty t-shirt and some sweat pants, so he figured Sam was quite serious about the sleeping part. Dean threw on the clothes and squinted into the mirror while he brushed his teeth and then patted out of the bathroom into the adjoining bedroom. He didn't see his duffle bag anywhere, so he figured Sam might not have unpacked them yet, but his clothes lay in a heap in the chair in the corner. He walked over and routed around them for a few seconds until he found what he'd been looking for and then proceeded to crawl into bed before Sam could come in and order him. He figured that being struck by lightning was as good an excuse as he was ever going to get to lie down early and by putting his head on the comfortably dented pillow, he managed to stop his brain from feeling like it slugged around in his skull with every movement. Actually the mattress was heavenly and so much better than any motel bed he'd ever slept in and while he was accustomed to sleep in any position at all times, he could definitely get used to that. So he drifted off peacefully after noticing his mother-hening little brother manning the doorway for a moment.

 

Jared stood in the doorway of Jensen's bedroom and watched his best friend sleeping peacefully for a few moments. He debated whether to stay in the room and set up camp in the armchair currently holding Dean's clothes to make sure that Jensen didn't slip away in his sleep, but he reconsidered that as just a tad bit creepy. The doc had said to check on him regularly and not let him do any extensive bodily work, but otherwise he should be fine after a good night's sleep and a healthy meal. Jared was still worried because of the befuddled look the other man had worn all the way to the house and the strange displays of getting into character, calling him Sam and all that. He thought Jensen might have taken on the opportunity to put a practical joke on him, but he still decided to sleep on the couch to be nearby, should the other man need something. He knew it was comfortable enough from many a night of winding down after a long day of shooting, only to fall asleep right away. Usually it was Jensen that woke him up and ordered him upstairs, but this night would be different. He just hoped that his best friend was alright and would really be back to normal once all the systems had rebooted. He dragged a blanket over to the couch and after making sure that the dogs were taken care of and locked securely away as to not disturb Jensen, he settled on the couch. It took him quite a bit longer to fall asleep though, as the image of that powerful lethal energy running through Jensen for fractions of a second was branded into his eyelids, taunting him incessantly. 

 

A tiny beat of sweat trickled down his brow from the heat surrounding everything, but he paid it no mind. Instead he looked down at his hands, caked in blood that ran in delicious streaks up to his elbow. He'd never once washed his hands down here, they were encrusted with old flaky blood and shiny wet new one that made sluggish turns on his skin. The combination of both glued the knife to his hand securely and he could feel the echo of torn guts and ripped-out lungs twanging through the fluids and he revelled in the picture it made before him, until a thought snaked into his mind to look at who exactly was strapped down before him and...

 

“SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMY.”

Dean sat up like a switch blade, panting harshly and threw the covers from his hot and sweating skin, trying to disentangle his thoughts and and limbs, barely registering that early morning light was filtering through the blinds before he heard a crash and a couple of loud, thumping noises that turned into quite a big mass of a man barging through the door before the handle was fully pressed down. 

“Jesus, I heard... are you... is everything alright? Talk to me!”

He dropped down on the edge of the bed unceremoniously and grabbed Dean's head with both hands, thumbs on his cheekbones and stared into his eyes.

“You okay? What was it? A nightmare?”

“Yeah I...”

“What was it about?”

“What was it... Sam, you _know_ what they are about. Don't give me that shit!”

The violent outburst had the other man flinch back and drop his hands. 

“You know, you can drop the act now, really, because this is so not funny anymore.”

“What are you on about? You know tha...” Dean narrowed his eyes at the other, took a second look … and came up with nothing that made Sam his brother in this man's eyes. 

“You're not Sam.”

The epiphany had him moving so fast he almost blurred. 

 

“Of course not, I... ughnngh.”

Jared felt his head smash into the wall, while the other man's left hand almost crushed his windpipe with the vice-like grip he used to pin him there. The move had completely taken him by surprise and only when a little click sounded only inches from his face did his world focus on the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes. He vaguely recalled Jensen's hand diving under the pillow and where had he gotten a weapon just like that... then he remembered – Jensen had been carrying a prop still, as he came directly from set. It was one of the real ones though, so even if there was no way it came packing live bullets, Jared really didn't fancy getting shot at in any shape or form. All the more since he had no clue what his best friend was actually on about.

“What the fuck is going here and who are you? I'm not in the mood for waiting here.”

Jared looked into the eyes of the man poised before him, his stance ready and wired for a fight –  _like a soldier, a fricking warrior –_ and he searched for the familiarity of his best friends personality and he only found...

 

“Oh my God, oh God...”

The strangled words came out of the mouth of the man that was not Sam –  _not Sammy, Jesus, not again, not –_ whose eyes bugged out with astonishment. The other made to speak and he relaxed his hand just a fraction of an inch to give him room. He flicked his eyes to the barrel and back to lock onto Dean's gaze, then he spoke.

“You're right. I'm not a Winchester...,” the finger on the trigger tightened immediately, but he hurried to move on before more could happen. “... but neither are you.”

“What are you on about?”

“You.. are not.. Dean Winchester.”

Dean was completely taken aback by that, he didn't know what kind of creature or demon was posing for his brother right now, but he was damn sure of his own identity, thank you very much.

“What if I am?”

The other man narrowed his eyes at that and hissed: “Prove it.”

“Aha, and how, pray tell, would I do that?”

“Dean Winchester got dragged out of hell by an angel of the Lord. He's got the mark to show for it. I can tell you what's going on, but first you have to prove yourself.”

“And what would that accomplish? You're still not Sam and I'm gonna kill you evil son of a bitch anyway.” He tightened his grip again half a notch just for good measure.

“Just .. show it.. you'll .. see, or don't.. you dare?”

Dean wanted to shake his head, was all this just an elaborate trick? But there was a little voice niggling at the back of his head, that told him to just do and then find out how to kill this one. 

Slowly, he slid his right hand up his left arm the gun always pointing at the man in front of him, using the weapon to rake the T-Shirt up to his shoulder and held Not-Sam's gaze the entire time. He saw the other man's eyes flicker down for half a second and figured he would be satisfied.

“Touched by an angel... all hard evidence there, you see?”

“No... _you_ see.”

And kind of without his own violation, his eyes dropped down to the spot where they expected to find the scorched mark to land on... unblemished skin.

 

The grip on his gun faltered at the sight, but he didn't let go entirely. His arm, however, dropped away from the other man's throat, giving him room to breathe for the first time in minutes. He coughed and spluttered a bit mumbling about bad habits and choking before his eyes fixed on Dean with surprising clarity and a hint of Sam-ness that hadn't been there before. 

“What the fuck is this? Some practical joke of the universe taking a shit on me or what? Tell me who you are!”

“I'm Jared, ok? Jared and you are Jensen, my best friend and we've been working together for years now. This is our house, we're living here and this is your bed. We're both perfectly normal and human, no deaths, no freaky demon powered psycho foo, no cryptic guardian angels.”

Dean felt the hand gripping the gun tremble, not so much from the words, but from that smooth voice taking on the perfect lilt and pitch of his brother when he was talking Dean down to reason. Then the content of his words caught up with Dean.

“I.. Wait, how do you know all that?”

“Because I AM Sam Winchester. Just not in the way you might think. You and me, we're actors and we're working together on a show called Supernatural, where we play the Winchester brothers.”

Dean positively gaped at that, he couldn't help himself. 

“Are you serious? You're saying my whole life is a fricking TV-show? Excuse me if I'm waiting for that angel buddy to jump out flaunting the wisdom of a heavenly pun, but it doesn't feel like one. How the hell did you come up with such bullshit?”

Not-Sam – _Jared, he said his name's Jared –_ rolled his eyes in another move that reminded him painfully of his brother and snarked back. 

“And how do you explain the absence of a certain mark then? Or the fact that if you try to gun me down with that one, you're going to shoot blanks?”

“Huh? WHAT, you're...”

“That's a prop gun, check the clip!”

Reluctantly, he pressed down and alright those were definitely not his custom-made silver bullets that should be in here. He couldn't really grasp it, but this made his believe waver for the first time in a way that even the absence of Castiel's mark hadn't been able to. He recognized this weapon, the ivory handle smooth and familiar against his skin, but something was off here. Too many things made too much sense. 

 

Jared watched the debate going on behind the other man's eyes with dread. He tried to figure out what to do now, since everything he's said up to now was pretty much made up as he went along. He was very aware of that detached sense of panic lingering in the back vestiges of his mind, because, damn, this was his best friend, this was Jensen and he WASN'T and what was happening here? He knew that if he let that hysteric giggle that was lodged up in his throat out, he'd have lost all control on this situation and he had to stay in tune, he had be strong enough to handle that. Because either his best friend's whole personality had been erased by lightning to leave only a role he was playing behind, or the lighting had struck the real Dean Winchester inside the other man. Jared didn't want to think about either possibilities because they were both equally scary and he really didn't know what to do next, how to resolve this. But he didn't get any further in his thoughts as he just barely caught on a dangerous glint appearing in the others eyes, before he told him what he had deduced from the situation.

“You're right, something is not right here, but you could be anyone or anything. I don't believe you... I've had that parallel universe crap before...”

“... with the djinn, right?”

“... and it doesn't pan out in the... what?”

“When you were captured by the djinn... Mum was alive, but Dad was still very much dead, even if he had grave this time.”

He saw the other one narrow his eyes, and contemplated that this might not have been the best way to put it, when he reacted in the split second the man threw a punch at him. 

 

Dean found himself in a situation he had neither anticipated, nor was he used to dealing with it. Apparently, though this felt very much like his body and it was by no means on the flimsy side of things, his reflexes didn't work the way they were supposed to. Which is why, instead of nursing some bruised knuckles from hitting a jaw full on with bone breaking force, he found himself pinned to the bed with his arms over his head and a considerable bulk of a man holding the rest of him down quite effectively. It had been a long time since he and Sam ever did some sparring (they caught enough training and scrapes in their regular kind of squabbles with the Supernatural) against each other and he knew that his brother was huge, but this... this was ridiculous. Even more so, since that man that was definitely not Sammy was wearing this half stunned, half apologetic expression that was so very much unlike his brother again. 

“I.. uhm, I'm sorry, but I couldn't very well let you hit me like that. I know, this isn't easy and I swear, I don't know what happened, if you are a part of Jensen, or real somewhere else in this cosmic scrabble and somehow ended up here. But I'm not putting up with throwing punches, we have to work together to fix this, OK, whatever has happened. I... I'm going to call some people, they... they have to know what's going on and maybe they can find a way to fix this, to get you back wherever you belong, right?”

Dean contemplated the offer for a few moments, and somehow, he had to trust this guy not to be any more supernatural than he himself was, and maybe something like he had said HAD happened and he got ripped out of a different part of reality. Either way, he was stuck here with that (un)familiar Sasquatch and he really had no choice right now but to go along until he could figure out what was going on. So he nodded and relaxed his fighting stance a bit to tell the other man that he wasn't a danger for now. What was his name – Jared, it was, yeah – well he was apparently not catching up on the deal. 

“Yeah, alright, call those guys, but really you can let me up now, I won't bite.”

Jared seemed to notice belatedly that he was looming over him with his whole weight spread out over his body and he shot up and away with an agility that spoke of some serious stretching of the physical law of mass movement. He shimmied to the other end of the bed against the wall and blinked at Dean with wide eyes that made mirth sparkle in the back of his skull. This situation might be seriously going on FUBAR, but at least he wasn't the only one seemingly out of his depth right now. He watched the guy gape like a fish for a few seconds until his irritation at the lack of movement spiked to make him snap: 

“Well, don't you need a phone?”

Jared started but said nothing when he scrambled off the bed to fetch a cell from the desk. He paced the floor after hitting a number and putting the cell up to his ear, anxious for the other end of the line to be picked up. Dean watched him thinking about the differences he could make out in this man, that were not only terms of attitude and mannerisms, but also on the physical level in the way he held himself, paced around on the lush carpet of the room. He really wanted to jump up and fight something, hunt something, but he held himself in check, because this was seriously out of his depth and even if he couldn't fall back onto his brother to do the research, he would have to content with the next best thing.

 

Jared was very aware for the eyes following his path through the room and while the phone rang to get a connection outside the country, and he pushed that embarrassing scene to the back of his head. Normally, he wouldn't even think twice about the physical proximity to Jensen, his best friend had learned to put up with padahugs, and padapaws and padablankets and his altogether infamous disregard for personal space very well over the years, but still, this was kind of... different. 

Either way, he tried to get his act together for the conversation he was going to have. In this instant, someone picked up at the other end of the phone.

“Eric? Yeah, hi it's me... no it's just Jen's phone lying around in reach. Yes, I got him home after yesterday and he's alright, only, we have a problem here, kinda. I... well, it's really not going to work talking that out over the phone. No, he's healthy enough, but yeah, can you get the team up here? Yeah, all the writers, there's... yeah, I think this is going to interfere with the shooting schedule... Definitely. I'm like, a bit out of my depth here, so, we really need to discuss that in person... yeah, I... yeah, just call when you're up here, we'll meet you at the set then... Yeah, bye.”

He turned around to the scrutinizing gaze of those eyes and sighed deeply.

“I've got the creator and the writing team coming up here from LA, they're catching the next possible plane, but it'll probably take them till evening to arrive. We'll have to wait until then, I'm afraid.” 

 

Dean fought the urge to cock his head and scrutinize some more, because, well he just didn't do the puppy look – that was Sam's thing, though his little brother really hadn't been anything like a puppy lately – and he had a reputation to uphold. 

“Considering that I don't think anything can be done until your... writers – this is not something like graphic novelist turned prophet, because dude, I got one of those already, and really...”

“Oh, no God, I hope not...,” Jared looked unsure for a moment there, because lets face it, if he really was Dean – and he felt very much like it – and this really was, kind of not his body, than there were only so many things that could have happened, they knew after all what kind of belief was inspired by masses. Still, both of them were not keen on addressing that particular elephant, so Dean decided he needed to kill time or something else preferably. 

“So what do you propose we do then? Because, really I'm in a strange place here and I need to kick some serious ass, right about now.”

Jared looked taken aback for a moment, but then he turned pensive and shuffled around a bit again. 

“Well, if this were a normal case of free time and this were only me and you, well Jensen, then we'd be lazing around watching a game or playing some video games or something...”

Dean pondered that for a moment and figured that if he was stuck here anyway for the time being, he could just as well have fun on the side. 

“Ok, well, but first I have to get dressed, can't very well run around in boxers now, can I?”

Jared seemed to notice that for the first time and he got the faintest of blushes while pointing behind his back at the big wardrobe that took up most of the wall. 

“Well, you can find stuff in there, so no fret, it's not like it won't fit you. I'll... well, I'll just go and fix some breakfast, yeah?”

He slunk out of the room and left Dean alone in this strange place that was to neat, to clean, to little sleazy to be comfortable. 

He threw open the doors and looked at the clothes that hung inside, pressed and neat and altogether sorted out in a way that his clothes never (in their short life) ever experienced. He rifled through some of the shirts and pants and grew increasingly more frustrated and irked because, dude, did that guy not own any real manly working clothes? Things that could get dirty and ripped and messed up and still get through another four or five cycles of laundry? God, there were actually... he wouldn't be caught DEAD in these pants, there had to be something comfortable in this house that he could actually wear. He'd already shed his T-Shirt, but he decided that there was no way around wandering out and asking Jared about something to wear, so he opened the door cautiously, feeling quite weird to go around in someone's living space like that. Not that it would normally bother him any to keep out of someone's apartment or house, but this was... kind of his living space or at least it should have been and this whole mess was tangled beyond measure. 

 

Either way, he padded out of the room, following his nose to that delicious source that sent the smell of bacon through the air. Of course that landed him in the big kitchen of the house where Jared was putting his meagre skills to pass to whip up a breakfast for both of them. As Dean stood in the door watching for a moment, he was struck again how much difference lay between his brother and this man, his mannerisms and movement graceful but so far away from the wired strength and barely controlled aggression Sam had oozed in buckets lately. 

'And we know now that you could have caught on to  _that_ one much earlier, if you hadn't been so caught up by your own whining...' a little niggling voice in the back of his head told him, but which he squashed instantly and very determined. He ambled into the kitchen with the kind of stealth that was ingrained into his very being by years and years of hunting that he couldn't shed the habit even in day to day life. When he stood directly behind Jared, he made a move to touch his shoulder as to make him aware of his presence, but Jared turned around before he could get there.  
  


When Jared turned and found Dean standing directly behind him like he'd grown out of the ground, he let go of a very manly screech he would forever deny producing, ever. But he was used to Jensen shuffling his way into the morning half asleep, half blind, entirely incoherent and noisy enough to announce his presence sometimes minutes before he actually emerged. Now his heart was lodged somewhere in the vicinity of his jaw as he looked down onto the man in front of him – that didn't wear anything but boxers. 

“Sheesh, you scared me half to death, don't DO that! And uhm, didn't you want to dress or something?”

He felt the tips of his ears grow hot and possibly very red, because even if they were two guys living together, they both had resorted to privacy and decency concerning their state of clothing around the house. This sprung from that one very odd incident where Jared had wandered out to the backyard where the dogs were yipping energetically, sauntering by the open door to Jensen's room to be met with a sight that was... never mind. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

“Why, yes, I would very much have wanted to, but seriously, you expect me to pick something like I found in that wardrobe? Haven't you got any _decent_ clothes?”

Jared was stunned as he hadn't really considered that point but looking at it, it was rather logical that Dean wouldn't ever get out in Jensen's clothes. He thought about it for a moment and remembered that they hadn't been to wardrobe before leaving after the accident, so there was one set of Dean clothes in the house somewhere.

“I... wait, I'll get you the things you wore on set yesterday, ok?”

“Sure, not like I've worn them for longer than a day now, is it? And there's no rips and blood or otherworldly goo dripping from it?”

Jared just shook his head numbly. Dean cocked an eyebrow and that made him bail for the laundry room, where he put together the different layers that were Dean Winchester. He was quite a bit uncomfortable watching his best friend slip into these clothes like they were his skin, not a way to feel any character different from his own. It made the man in front of him more Dean and for the first time, Jared feared that he'd lost whatever made Jensen into the person he was underneath all the roles he played for his job (in front of and behind the camera...). But he decided that this road led down to a full blown panic attack that would not help any of them. He'd have to trust the writers of Supernatural to actually cope with the supernatural for once and keep Dean in check along the way. Which is how it came to the next thing they were doing...

“Dude, this is awesome, but are you even TRYING?” 

Dean laughed at Jared's cranky rumbling.

“Man, I know I'm good, but I've been kicking your ass for twenty rounds now, you gonna step up and claim that high score sometime soon?”

Turns out that giving Dean the controller of an X-Box was very effective in terms of occupational therapy, but also went along with some serious bruises on Jared's otherwise quite healthy ego. But honestly, he should have figured that with Dean's marksmanship and weapon's training and experience in hand to hand combat derived from the actual sources of nightmares and not the monster of the week guest star fit into some fancy prosthetics. There was really no chance he wouldn't pick up on video games with lightning speed. Which he did of course and that in turn was the reason for Jared's current embarrassment. But he had to give it to Dean, that man seemed to have all the carefree attitude of the world, for all intends and purposes, he didn't look like someone awaiting an insecure fate. And if there hadn't been too much of Sam in Jared to see where this was going, he'd have believed the guy didn't have anything else on his mind but the next round of Halo or something. He had wondered for quite some time, how much Dean knew about what was going on right now, since the season was heading towards another mean cliffhanger fast. He'd never considered asking enough to actually get an impression as to where they stood with each other in the story. But since Dean seemed to trust him well enough, he figured they weren't as far as the script they'd already gotten told them. Which would be weird if this was just Jensen buried beneath a character because of some freaky brain melt, as he would know these things as well already. On the other hand, for all his experience and work of the last four years, he still hadn't Dean Winchester figured out to his core. There was only the lasting impression that everyone saw less of Dean, the real Dean than they thought. Except maybe Jensen...

All this put together made his head hurt something fierce and he didn't know how to cope with their different choices that were equally crap either way. Before he could go completely round the bend about it all, thankfully his cell phone rung and he scrambled to take the call.

Dean looked up from the game when he noticed Jared diving for his phone. His hands went slack on the controller and a line of cold sweat dribbled down his spine. He didn't know why the prospect of meeting all these guys made him so nervous (not that he would ever openly admit that...) but somehow he had the feeling that they'd be able to look right through him and tell if he was a mere figment of imagination, or real and stranded in an alternate universe. Additionally, there was this niggling sense of something he should know about, but couldn't really grasp before the thought slipped away everytime. However, it did come with an increasing sense of urgency. His train of thought was cut short when he watched Jared shut his phone with a resounding click and looked over with pensive eyes.

“They just arrived, so we're getting the car to take us to the set to meet up with them all. I just...”

“...yeah. I know.”

He watched the younger man let go of his breath as if he'd held it since getting up to this mess, but he didn't feel much better, so he opted for a shit-eating grin and “Let's go then!”

They sat in the car, riding silently and far from each other in a way that hadn't happened for a very long time and it made Jared ache, having to go through all this without his supportive and witty best friend at his side. There was something unmistakable charging the air and he wasn't the only one aware, judging by the looks Cliff was throwing through the rear-view mirror. When they drew near the gates finally, Jared tried to feel relieved for they'd made hopefully one step further on the way to solve this whole mess. When they stood in front of the door to the conference room though, it struck him that he didn't know what to do next, as he'd pretty much made all this up as he went along. He glanced at Dean and decided that he would not let him do the explaining, or it would head down the drain real fast. 

“We go in there? There's going to be a lot of people you don't know, but that know you. I'm going to try and explain this whole thing, but I need you to... just lie back for a moment there and let me handle this, ok?”

The other man opened his mouth as if to object, but seemed to change his mind pretty soon after and gestured as Jared to lead the way. 

They hadn't really noticed, but getting a rather big group of people from LA up to Vancouver on such short notice took some time, so it was already getting rather dark outside and the conference room was lit with big lamps that hung over the table, giving the room an air of secret military operations in the making. Jared tried to shake that ridiculous image once he'd stepped through the door to focus on the matter at hand. He swept his gaze over the concerned faces of Sera, Ben, Rob, Eric... all of them apprehensive and lighting up as soon as Dean stepped through behind him. He felt a trickle of cold sweat down his back when he thought about telling them. They were the writers and creators of this show that dealt with the Supernatural alright, but that didn't mean they wouldn't take him for a total nut job when he spilled the beans. Eric stood up instantly though and hurried around the table to stop in front of Dean, who eyed him a bit warily and glanced at Jared before taking the offered hand. 

“Are you quite alright? I mean, when we heard about your... accident, we were all pretty upset, but Phil told us instantly that you got a clean bill of health and that Jared had taken you home to sleep it off.”

“I'm... yeah, I'm alright as can be considering... and..”

Eric prattled on in Jared's direction before he could get one more word in edgewise.

“Ok, since everything's fine, why did you get us to fly up here on such short notice? I think we can resume shooting as soon as he feels up to it!”

Jared knew that he had to speak up now, or this would take a turn for the worse. He could imagine how Dean would react to having to act out himself in those last episodes. 

“Ah, no, guys, in fact, before this whole mess is resolved, there's not going to be any more shooting.”

All the people in the room except Dean looked at him cross, so he scratched his head awkwardly and finally he got it out.

“Uhm, guys, may I introduce to you... uhm... this is... Dean Winchester.”

What followed would have to be classified as utterly stunned silence. 

Dean was just about ask why all those people were sitting around catching flies, when that little middle-aged guy in front of him cracked up with hysterical laughter. 

“Seriously, Jared, I can see that for myself, you're joking right? If you really had us all flying up here for a prank I've got to hand it to you, we've been had, but I'm seriously charging you with the plane tickets, that's for sure.”

Jared dragged his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated with his inability to make clear what he was damn sure of himself. 

“Look, I'm not joking, right, this isn't Jensen Ackles anymore than I am Sam Winchester. I... something happened. You,...”

This was the moment when Dean decided to open his mouth, consequences be damned. 

“Well, I don't know about you, but I'd like to know the names of all the people that are talking about me like I'm not right here and I definitely don't know you guys.”

He felt all eyes of the room instantly rivet on him, but refused to uncomfortable under the scrutiny, he had Jared here after all who was supposed to know how to handle these people. Plus, they didn't look like they could take him out if they tried at the same time... but after all, the things they hunted rarely did. The guy that had shaken his hand stood there struck silent, but the petite woman with the curly hair stood up and planted herself in front of him to look him square in the eye. She tilted her head and he quirked an eyebrow, but stayed relaxed and loose. 

“Dean Winchester, huh? Well, I'll be damned.”

Jared cringed in sympathy with Dean at Sera's offhanded comment, that woman really had a way with words and making them hurt like hell. But at least she seemed to have seen what he had as well, and he had one more ally on his way of sorting this out. The men spluttered all around her, but she turned to Eric resolutely, staring him down. 

“Come on, guys, we know Jensen is good, but not that good. And Jared wouldn't have been able to keep his face straight for all of ten seconds after delivering that line. This is no joke, right?”

She turned back to them.

“No, no it really isn't.”

“My word for it, Miss, I have a high tolerance for practical jokes and pain in the ass-relocations, but getting to be dumped in a different universe, in the life of a man that even lacks a decent wardrobe ain't my idea of having a fun time.”

“But we... how's that even possible?”

“Beats me, Mister.”

“I think what Dean means is that... well, wherever he came from, he needs to go back and I can't think of any other people that know as much about the possible repercussions or solutions than you guys.”

“Yeah, I mean you're writers, aren't you? Bet you're some kind collective Chuck, messing with my life again. That seems to be a kind of favourite sport by the hands of fate lately... make a cosmic joke out of Dean Winchester.”

Jared felt the high strung rage that made the man next to him thrum instantly and wondered if it had been there all the time, or just came up when he was faced with a group of people that could very well be responsible for making his life suck, big time, lately. Meanwhile, the people in question had started talking among and above each other with frenzied chatter that bounced back from the walls and made it impossible to understand anything clearly. There were theories flying through the air about the how's and why's and who's and he was getting a serious headache again from all that. He couldn't follow one single thread until Eric stated loud and clear: “But either way, we can't very well write something up to put him back were he belongs, that's just not how the story goes, he's a fictional character for God's sake.”

Apparently Dean had been able to follow the conversation much better because his fist crashed down onto the table top with bruising force. 

“God's got no fucking clue. And if it's true and you made all this shit up, this,” he pointed at himself. “Figment of your imagination has led a pretty fucked up life for quite some time and unless you don't want to risk Apocalypse walking through the door right behind me, you better fricking write something up to fix this. Because I've had it up to here, dealing with all this shit the world's been throwing at me lately and now I find out that there might be a man in the moon after all, making all the spotlights turn on at the appropriate time, you goddamn owe me this one!”

Dean breathed harshly, nostrils flaring and Jared knew enough about his 'big brother' to realize that he was loosing his patience with the situation, fast. No sooner had he thought that, when he heard a crack, as Dean had turned around violently and struck the wall with his bare fist. Before he could even rear back for another swing, before Jared could even begin to think about broken fingers and split knuckles, he was behind the other man with one stride, pinning his arms to the side. Dean bucked in the circle of his arms, but he just griped him tighter, pressing his back against his chest. To avoid being headbutted, Jared lay his chin down on Dean's shoulder, his cheek pressed right against his ear. He whispered nonsense, words of calm and empty promises to resolve the situation. He didn't think about the awkwardness of this embrace or his possible reaction to it or the other people in the room, he just wanted to make sure, that no harm befell this man. 

Restricted by the strong arms that should be his brothers, his baby brother that was supposed to stay save and innocent in this... but he wasn't and they weren't... Dean screamed out his anger and frustration at the whole goddamn mess. 

“Where's God in all this, huh? Why doesn't he fucking step up and FIX it already? Where is his fucking will?”

Dean was aware that this whole situation he'd been dumped in, had turned around on him and his coping mechanisms pretty damn fast and he didn't know how that happened. But he really, really had to draw the line being put through all this for the means of entertainment. He noticed Jared's harsh breath and hoarsely whispered words in his ears, but he couldn't make any sense of it, everything just went fuzzy and sounds blurred like something was...

Jared was glad when the other stopped struggling and twisted sideways a bit, so he could catch his expression and loosen up for a bit. Then he noticed the eerie quiet and the flickering lights at the ceiling and his stomach plunged down with dizzying speed. Next thing that hit was... a wave of sound, so far beyond human perception that he could only feel it sweep through his bones and leave cruel ringing echo behind in his ears. The light bulbs flashed on the ceiling and went out with a shower of sparks just as he knees gave out underneath the oppressing force. He felt the man in his arms jerk and try to cover his ears, but he couldn't let go, not with all hell breaking loose around them. Then Jared thought he heard a slight flapping noise and suddenly the room around them was plunged in darkness and silence. It had been only moments, but he felt shaken to the core and if not for the burnt out bulbs he would've instantly claimed to have imagined the whole thing. Except, there was a hand patting around on his, fingers weaving through his splayed on that broad chest and a croaked “Jared?”

He felt something in his perception shift and under the cover of darkness he shuddered, pressing his face into the other man's neck, filling with a hollow feeling of loss and relief. 

“Don't you ever, never ever do that to me again, Jensen, you hear me? You stay right here!”

For the moment of a heartbeat he feared that he'd get the wrong answer, until:

“I.. yeah, I will.”

FIN


End file.
